


Hands of a Government Man

by peternurphy



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: M/M, consensual torture, only in allusion, sexual pathology, the depictions of violence aren't too violent? but better safe than sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 08:32:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9596609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peternurphy/pseuds/peternurphy
Summary: Quark makes a proposition, Garak returns to his past.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Deathstar510](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deathstar510/gifts).



"I don't think I'll ever be able to understand your fascination with these..." A gray tongue flicks over the top lip and gray eyes narrow under prominent ridges. The body becomes separate from the controlled, specifically chosen, expressions of the face as it stretches itself out and into a long black sheet of rock. "Erotic holodeck films." It's articulated with a wrist movement. 

"It's a shared fascination - I'd say that you're the weird one with all your- hangups, and repression."

And his partner - small with a large head, buttoning up a gaudy jacket and moving around the rock like a charged particle. "I mean, can't you just calm down and enjoy the scene I bought?"

"The scene? Yes, beyond the lack of imagination, I can't find any problems with a Betazoid wedding scene." 

"I should have known your tastes would be-"

"It's not that, either."

"Then what, exactly, is it?"

"When I said I wanted to try a holosuite to relax in, I meant alone, and I meant in a place like this." Garak finally sits up to gesture to the volcanic field - then a sharp-nailed arm flicks out like a harpoon and wraps around Quark's neck, spinning him so they're face to face. "Certainly not an erotic setting, and certainly not with you. I do mean you no offense by this, but I just don't think I could bring myself to be attracted to you."

"If I were a Cardassian?"

"The answer would still be no, Quark." Garak pauses to arch his back against an bump on the side of the stone - on Cardassia, commonly carved for such chiropractic purposes and commonly used to snap dissidents like murking sticks in the hands of a bitter student. He considers the lack of adaptation on other planets to be another sign of Cardassia's superiority. The joints crack with a volume that makes Quark flinch. "Oh, you'd do more than that if I told you what this place was. I do have to say I'm very flattered that you would attempt to make a move on me, considering my advanced age."

"Don't be - I just thought you'd be desperate enough to take me up."

And it's somewhat bitter, but as Garak turns to leave the holosuite, he decides not to point out how easy it was to see the lie. 

\--

A week passes - for Quark in the holosuites, exploring old programs of underground bunkers and concrete basements and lead pipes and syringes. He uses the more exotic races from the programs he has, choosing at random so when a Cardassian is in the fantasy, it's pure chance. And it's a tall and buff Gul, with prominent ridges and sharp teeth and a strong voice that Quark feels compelled to obey (he doesn't). The ideal of Cardassian manhood would shove him into the rocks and manhandle his lobes and threaten Quark with drills and large syringes, and while Quark never failed to reach climax, it didn't take him long to stop the computer and vanish the reptilian Ares. 

For Elim Garak, the week is spent toying with the wire in his brain. Mostly as a distraction - as disgusting as he finds Ferengi, and Quark in particular, the way the little man would squirm and yell and respond is certainly appealing. He remembers taking a Sko'orat wasp to a small, dumpy little True Way magister, and the way the limbs spasmed and the screams became akin to a squeaking rubber human toy. It was Garak's first time with the wasp - and he remembers holding it over the P'rut, watching the stinger look for the place where it could penetrate - then in his private chambers, rubbing his cocks desperately in the blind spot between the cameras. 

It's a week before he retrieves the metal tools, wrapped in a soft cloth, from their drawer. He looks over them - a drill would be out of the question. Same with the syringe - but only for lack of any compounds he has experience with. The rough file, however, and the clamps and wires hooked up to a small battery cell he places inside a small synthetic leather bag, lined with silk and light in his hands. He dresses himself in a conservative black suit - not far off from the one he would have worn.

Garak checks Quark's bar first - fortunately, it's closed. If he had had to proposition Quark in public, he would have to throw himself from the airlock after the deed was done. Instead, he just has to take the longer walk down to Quark's quarters - which he would have plenty of reasons for visiting.

He hits the door, hard, then stands to the side. When Quark opens it, Garak slips in - thinking of the Regnar as he moves behind the Ferengi and lifts him by the back of the neck. He runs his tongue drily up the side of Quark's left lobe and puts his head at the side of Quark's-

"Were you still considering... propositioning me?" 

The vessels in Quark's neck are throbbing furiously; he tries to struggle, Garak tightens his grip. "Are you going to kill me?!" Quark asks.

"Not unless that's what you wanted."

"Well, it's not-"

Garak drops Quark, and he falls with a rather satisfying sound. "Why was I the one you sought out, Quark?" The wire is buzzing hard in his brain - like a small metal bulb Garak had found in his youth and tucked inside of him, between the hemipenes as he did his work. But Garak's older and more mature - and while he could evert, all he needs is the satisfaction of his work and the little bursts of internal chemical pleasure. "I can say for a fact that I'm not the first Cardassian you will have spent the night with, and I'm certainly far from that Lumal Syrat from your Holodeck programs. Is it that I'm desperate seeming to you? But I can't be the only desperate one in your bar. All the odds seemed stacked against me."

"It-"

"Quark, I'm not finished. I wondered and wondered about why you would have any interest in an old Cardassian tailor, until I remembered that silly rumor about me being-" Garak looks around with wide eyes, as if he's being listened to. "Obsidian Order! Tell me, Quark, is that why you wanted me in that holosuite with you?"

He takes Quark by the chin and meets his eyes. Garak is smiling as wide as always - the tips of his teeth show through, and he can sense Ferengi precum already with the tip of his tongue. But Quark seems to be flustered enough, so Garak keeps that to himself. 

"Fine, you've found me out - I want some good old Cardassian torture. I apologize if I've offended you, but even if you're not from the Order, you seemed depraved enough to figure something out."

Garak laughs and stands. "Depraced enough to figure something out. Yes, I rather like that." He unclasps the leather bag and twirls the metal file between his fingers. "Now, at any moment if you need to stop.... well, all you have to do is say stop. After all, I'm a simple, straightforward man."


End file.
